Hello, again!
So, lower_tadfield, I wrote a little something the other day. The thing is, when I finished getting it all out of my system a la Word, I completely lost the desire to do anything with it.
I didn't want it to go to waste, so, after tossing it to foxxfire5 and talking about it some, it was agreed that posting it here would be a good idea.
It was a rainy afternoon.
A pleasantly plump, middle-aged man sat in the back of his Soho bookshop, curled up with an old book and a mug of cocoa, cosy and sheltered from the miserable weather outside. He was unnaturally still as he read, save a lift of the hand and a flick of the finger to turn the page, so immersed in his book that he hardly seemed to be breathing.
Outside, however, a harried, skinny adolescent ran along the street, soaked to the skin and shivering. An awning over one of the shops nearby seemed like a good place to use as shelter; the adolescent quickened his already hurried pace and ducked beneath the awning upon reaching it.
As though shaken from a reverie, the bookshop owner blinked quickly and frowned. Something didn’t feel quite right all of a sudden. Something was brushing the outermost reaches of his Senses; it felt mildly pleasant, then mildly unpleasant, then mildly pleasant again, fading in and out like someone playing with a radio dial.
Carefully marking his page, the man-shaped being rose from his seat and slowly began moving toward the front of the shop. The unstable Presence became stronger with every step he took.
Outside, the adolescent blew on his hands and rubbed them together, completely oblivious what trouble his presence could cause.
Take from it what you wish - use it, abuse it, call it your own. I'd love to see what someone could make of it.
It's all yours.
~Fido
I didn't want it to go to waste, so, after tossing it to foxxfire5 and talking about it some, it was agreed that posting it here would be a good idea.
It was a rainy afternoon.
A pleasantly plump, middle-aged man sat in the back of his Soho bookshop, curled up with an old book and a mug of cocoa, cosy and sheltered from the miserable weather outside. He was unnaturally still as he read, save a lift of the hand and a flick of the finger to turn the page, so immersed in his book that he hardly seemed to be breathing.
Outside, however, a harried, skinny adolescent ran along the street, soaked to the skin and shivering. An awning over one of the shops nearby seemed like a good place to use as shelter; the adolescent quickened his already hurried pace and ducked beneath the awning upon reaching it.
As though shaken from a reverie, the bookshop owner blinked quickly and frowned. Something didn’t feel quite right all of a sudden. Something was brushing the outermost reaches of his Senses; it felt mildly pleasant, then mildly unpleasant, then mildly pleasant again, fading in and out like someone playing with a radio dial.
Carefully marking his page, the man-shaped being rose from his seat and slowly began moving toward the front of the shop. The unstable Presence became stronger with every step he took.
Outside, the adolescent blew on his hands and rubbed them together, completely oblivious what trouble his presence could cause.
Take from it what you wish - use it, abuse it, call it your own. I'd love to see what someone could make of it.
It's all yours.
~Fido